Savage
by LegionInfinity
Summary: A kingdom, ravaged and destroyed from within. A population without hope. All seemed lost for Lloyd Garmadon, the current reigning prince regent of Ninjago, their land and king stolen by a man who calls himself the Overlord. What they needed was miracle, one that may lie in the depths of the forest, but can Lloyd put all his trust in a fairytale? A legend that may not even be true?
1. Chapter 1

"_**In the beginning, the only darkness came from the wrong side of the moon."**_

•_Chapter One•_

_The Prince Regent_

Unlike many, I remember my childhood as a happy time. I remember when the sting of a wooden sword against your soft and powdered skin was the worst pain you ever felt. You need not feel anything worse, maybe perhaps the beatings you received for bad behavior. I do admit, my childhood was much more privileged than others.

As the only child and rightful heir to the throne, I was babied and treated as a porcelain dish, easily breakable and usually foreign to a casual setting. I never left the castle before age twelve and when I did, it was because I felt the vibrations of the rocks sent catapulting into my home. Every illusion I had of my perfect safe haven vanished as I watched the people of the village burn with the fire of battle. By the age of fourteen, I was no longer the polished prince I once was, instead a complete stranger to myself and others. A solider, ravaged by war, eyes made empty by the death of thousands, heart made hard by the eyes of the enemy.

Every time the enemy would push forward, I and my Father's knights would go and push them back, every time losing more fighters, more villagers. It was early December, when the first snow began to fall that only I returned to the castle. The king and queen, my mother and father, were beginning to lose hope. And then he came knocking on our door.

I can't believe I was so blind. He simply walked through the army without a fight yet that caused me no suspicion. At first, the man seemed quite resourceful, fashioning a weapon which allowed our castle to stay standing during another battle, but then, his ideas began to change. They began to get darker, more malevolent. His weapons and tactics began to harm what little population we had left and he didn't seem to care. What's worse, was my father began to relish every injury and every death he brought, no matter the side. My mother began to fear him, the darkness showing in his eyes and skin. I alone faced him, only to bring down upon myself the new rage that had formed in him. This man was no longer my father, he was a monster.

The man and my father drove myself, my mother and what was left of my kingdom into the forest, where he attacked us non-stop, until the cold weather eventually forced his new and unprepared army to retreat. The land that had once been my father's kingdom became known as the Overland, ruled by the Overlord, and I, Prince Lloyd of the Kingdom Ninjago, became the prince regent, a title forced upon me by my Father's negligence.

•••

I was supposed to be getting some sleep, but the beds placed into this small, claustrophobic bunker were quickly thrown together, making the straw lumpy and hard in places. That was not the reason for my restlessness, instead the constant thought that my father was going to kill us without remorse. I was jerked roughly out of my empty sleep by a hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch hard. I must have frightened the young girl who had been given this task, for she let out a small gasp and a loud thunk was auditable through the stone chamber. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking over at the girl, who had quickly pulled herself up at my attention. She ran her hands over her skirt, getting whatever dirt caused by her fall to come off it in a smoke-like puff.

"I'm sorry, my lord." The girl squeaked out, chewing on her thumbnail. "I didn't mean to scare you." I smiled at the girl, whose name was Alice, trying to ignore the large bandage that covered the eye that had been violent gorged out during out fight to get here.

"Don't apologize, Alice." I said. "I was the one that frightened you." I threw my legs over onto the floor, pulling on my boots. "And please, call me Lloyd." Alice smiled, proceeding to giggle and hide her mouth behind her hand. I laughed as well, but my smile quickly faded. Alice was beginning to leave, but I called out and stopped her. "How's your eye?" She stopped, the glimmer in her eye vanished.

"It still hurts very badly. The doctor gives me medicine to ease the pain, but he's almost out." She looked down towards the floor. "They're not sure if I can take the pain after that." She sniffed a bit, then looked back up at me. "May I ask you a question?" I smiled again, gently patting the straw next to where I was sitting. She scurried over quickly, crossing her legs as she sat down like a proper lady. I felt my heart rise at this, that even in this time, she still felt the need to be polite.

"What troubles you?" I asked. She signed, wringing her small hands.

"They have my eye in cold storage." She said slowly.

"Yes," I said, "I made sure it was kept there myself." She looked up.

"Do you… do you think there's a chance… they could put it back? The small rise in my mood was quickly stomped out, sinking lower than it had ever been. Of course there was no way to fix her eye, there was a large hole where the iris used to be, and the optic nerve was severed when it was pulled out of the socket. There was no hope, there was almost no hope for anything anymore, but I couldn't let her know that, not now, not when she has already given so much.

"I think…I think there's always hope." Alice looks down.

"But… none for me." She swallowed tightly. "I have to go." She said briskly, standing up and running out of the room before I could call her back. I pressed my face into my hands and groaned.

"Shit." I mumbled, letting my hands trail down my face and fall into my lap. "What the hell am I going to do?" I wondered aloud as I stood up and pulled my tunic over my head, feeling the soft purple velvet brush against my chest. As a king, I was supposed to motivate the population, give them blind hope in a time when it was scarce, but so far, I haven't been doing a good job. I wasn't cut out for this. The first half of my life, I was an oblivious child, the second half, a warrior who couldn't afford a conscious.

"Lloyd?" I heard a gentle voice call. "Lloyd? Are you in here?" I sighted, not wanting to talk to anyone, but I had been taught better than that. It was impolite to refuse the queen.

"Yes, Mom. I'm in here." I turned towards the doorway, seeing my mother, still dressed in her royal robes. They were tattered and fading, stained with the blood of the many we lost along the way, but she continued to wear them with her head held high. She gave me a small smile.

"Lloyd, we are very late for the planning meeting. You know they will not start without you." I groaned, leaning my head into my arm, which was leaning my weight against the cool stone wall. I had completely forgot about the war meeting we were having at this hour. The meeting would most likely result in a plan that required another group of our willing and able-bodied men to march off, never to return.

"Then perhaps I just won't go." I heard my mother's small sigh, her footsteps echoing as she walked towards me, laying her small hand on my shoulder.

"I know it's hard, Lloyd," I heard her throat catch, but I elected to ignore it, "but in your father's…absence, you are all these people have as leader." I could just imagine her green eyes glimmering with false encouragement, the same green eyes I saw in the mirror every day, the same I tried to ignore.

"Why? So we can vote to send more people off to their deaths? So I can watch my kingdom fall to ashes by my own hand?" I said, immediately regretting my bitterness.

"Oh, Lloyd. It's not like that." She tried to reason with me, but today, I just wouldn't hear it. I wouldn't here the same speech over again.

"Oh, yes," I said, hearing my voice rise within the chamber walls, "I forgot, it's much easier for you." I spun around, yanking her hand from its perch. "Tell me, Queen Misako," I shouted, "how many soldiers have you sent off to their death for your betterment?" As my purged myself of the anger that had been building up for some time, I noticed the position my mother had taken. She had pressed herself up against the wall, arms raised in front of her face in a defensive position. I felt every bit of rage I had previously felt towards her leave my body, seeing her so small and afraid, as she had been in the last few days with my father. Sometimes, I forget how much I resemble him, before the darkness took over. With quivering legs, I walked over and scooped her up, pressing her shaking body to my chest. After a moment, she began to return the embrace. After endless minute, we eventually released one another. I straightened my tunic. "I apologize, Mother." I said, bowing slightly. "I let my temper get the best of me." She gave me a sad smile, using her fingers to push my blond hair out of my face so that she could lay her hand on my cheek.

"Apologize for nothing. I have forgotten the stress that a new role of leadership brings down on a young man such as yourself." I nearly flinched at how formal she was being, knowing that I hurt her. I cleared my throat, wanting to quickly leave the room, the tension choking me as it had been Alice before.

"Excuse me, I must get to my meeting." I quickly walked around my mother and out the door, nearly running into the quick-moving figure making her way into the room. She stopped and bowed slightly at my presence, waiting for me to say something to her, as I always did. I gave her a small smile. "Good morning, Pixal. How was your sleep?" Pixal looked at me a moment, before nodding and slightly shrugging her shoulders. After a moment of awkward silence, she pointed into the room, towards my mother's back. I quickly moved out of Pixal's way. "My apologizes, you have to get to work, and I have a meeting to attend to." I nodded slightly towards her before continuing on my way towards my meeting.

Pixal once lived in the mountains, with a tribe of ice savages. When my father invaded the area, she was the only one deemed useful, sparing her and her alone. She was brought back to the castle, cleaned up, and appointed as one of my mother's ladies-in-waiting. Unfortunately, as we found out when we brought her back, in the tribe that Pixal had been part of, children were under an oath of silence from age ten until eighteen. When her village was stormed, the shaman was killed, and there was no one to release her from her oath. To this day, she remains silent, the one of the only reminders that she was once a savage, the other being the permanent box-like markings that stained her pale skin.

I regret taking her away from her home. Maybe if my father hadn't have taken the mountains, Pixal could have been safe, with a family of her own, her voice ringing out clear like the cool mountain wind.

•••

I stared around the rounded table at the people surrounding me. My father's original war council was all slaughtered, the hundreds of brains filled with knowledge that could help us in this time of need, all gone. My makeshift council was made up of only six people, including myself.

The old grandmaster I had grown up knowing, a man named Rowan, who had led my Father's troops into successful battle after another, had sadly passed on of old age, only days before the first attack. Fortunately, his son, a man named Dareth, had been training to take his father's place. He was one of the only people to make it out of the castle alive, besides my mother and me.

Another member was a former knight, now a baron, awarded with many medals for his feats of bravery. He and the baroness, his wife, had both made it here alive. Though I was more comfortable calling him Sir Edward, or Baron Walker, he insisted I call him Ed.

The next was the only female in my council, once the best artillator in the land, now my king, or rather, queen of arms. The daughter of the best blacksmith in the village, Nyata Ignis, or Nya as she preferred to be called, had been up to the title without complaint.

One of my more suspicious members of the council, one who was barely trusted with a sword, was a knight who had traveled from a distant land. Sir Pythor of Ouroboros. Odd name, is it now? I could honestly not say much about him, only that he was sly, a little too friendly for my comfortable liking.

My final member was one of the best artisans in the village, a man who doubled as a medical doctor. Dr. Tinkerer Julien, though we normally only called him Dr. Julien. Though he did not speak much during these meeting, when he did offer his two-cents, it always proved useful.

"Everyone," started Dareth, clapping his hands together to signal the beginning of the meeting, "I would like to call the seventh meeting of the grand council of Regent Prince Lloyd Garmadon to order." He glanced around, seeing if anyone voiced their opposition. When no one did, he placed both hands down of the table, holding down the tattered edged of the map of the kingdom that always sat on the table. "I would like to call the council's attention to Lady Nya, who has requested to start off this meeting." All eyes turned to Nya, who nodded gently in Dareth's direction.

"Thank you, Lord Dareth." She said, before turning her attention, to the map, tracing her thin finger over the boundary lines until she found the point she was looking at. She pressed her fingertip against the point until it turned white. "I have spent many days out on patrol studying the patterns of Overland's patrol." She glanced up, ensuring that we were all paying attention, before falling back towards the map. "This area is one of the points that is the least guarded. Now, I believe that if we were to send a small group of warriors, no more than five, they could slip into the borders unnoticed."

"There is good reason for it being the least guarded," said Dareth, pointing at the land before the point, "you would have to cut through the mountains to even get close to the point. No one could survive that trek."

"I have a plan for that," Nya said, dragging her finger back a ways, "if we were to go a ways back into the forest, the group could cut around the mountain." She drew a half moon around the mountain, ending up back at her original point. The Baron shook his head.

"No. That would require too many unaccountable variables, especially with the warm months coming in soon." The Baron scanned the table, trying to read our expressions.

"Ed is right." I cut in, glad I remembered not to refer to him as the Baron. I turned towards Nya, pressing my palms into the edge of the table. "I appreciate the thought, Nya, but there is absolutely no possible way five warriors could defeat my father, the Overlord, and the army."

"Perhaps," said Pythor in his smooth tone from across the table, "we could send in five men willing to sacrifice themselves. Draw attention so our entire army could sneak in while the guards are distracted."

"No." I said, slamming my fist into the table, causing everyone to look up from the map. "If we can avoid it, I refuse to let anyone else die," I turned towards Pythor, trying not to sneer at the cockiness in his eyes, "especially not in a suicide mission." Just then, a small knock at the large wooden door pulled us all out of focus, as one of the guards opened the door, allowing the young page to slip in. He leaned against the stone wall of the room, patiently waiting to deliver his message to its recipient. We all turned back towards the map.

"Lloyd," said Nya from across the table, using the gentle tone she used when she wanted something, "I know this is hard for you, but as the Prince Regent, you have a duty to your people."

"Yes," Dareth cut in, "if you don't think Nya's plan will work, and you refuse Pythor's plan, what would you suggest we do." I hung my head, trying to hide the fear and shame in my eyes. I felt like I had back when I was a child, with my tutor during my lessons, when I missed an arithmetic problem.

"I don't know." I said quietly, erupting a silence into the room that was almost unbearable.

"Well, I believe that Nya's plan will work." Dr. Julien said from beside me. "All we need is some powerful warriors."

"And what's your definition of 'powerful', Doctor?" Pythor inquired.

"Well," said the doctor, "you were looking for men that welcomed Death, but I believe we should be looking for men far greater." His eyes scanned the table over his spectacles. "I believe we should be looking for men that are not only powerful physically, but also do not fear Death, because they have run into him once before." He traced his wrinkled and withering finger along the mountains. "Men who aren't only willing, but know this mountain well." I shook my head slowly, pressing my hand against my mouth in thought.

"Pardon me, Doctor," I said, "but where would you suggest we find men such as this?"

"Excuse me, my liege?" All eyes snapped over towards the wall, where the young page stood. Every mouth hung open with surprise that they boy had the courage to speak out of turn, to the Prince, no less. He took a deep breath, relishing in the realization that he had not yet been hanged for his crime. His eyes darted around. "But if its powerful warriors you are looking for, you could always seek out the Wolves."

•••


	2. Chapter 2

"**But even the gods fell from the heavens." **

•_Chapter Two•_

_The Wolves of Birchwood Forest_

I felt the confusion cross my face at the page's outburst. My eyes crossed the table, looking at each face individually. "Wolves? Wolves? What does the boy mean by wolves?" Pythor waves his hand at the guard standing next to the page before I could inquire what he meant.

"Take the boy outside now! He can wait there to deliver his message instead of interrupting our meeting with this nonsense!" Before I could interject, the guard roughly grabbed the page and pulled him out into the hall, closing the door with a heavy thud after him. I turned towards Pythor, trying to hide my anger and confusion.

"May I ask what that was all about, Sir Pythor?" I asked. Pythor waved away my comment as if it was an annoying insect.

"The boy was practically screeching insanity." He said in his comforting but unnerving tone.

"Pythor," said Nya, letting out a loud sound of discontent, "the boy isn't insane. Childish, maybe, but not insane." Pythor tilted his head, narrowing his already snake-like eyes.

"I do not follow, my dear." Pythor hissed.

"Sir, do they not have legends where you are from?" The Baron wondered aloud. Pythor smiled fondly.

"Ah, yes. As a child, I was particularly fond of one." He tapped his chin in overdramatic thought. "What was it called again? Ah, never the matter. I do recall it including a giant snake." I placed my palms down on the table and pushed in irritation, causing the wooden table to emit a loud crack.

"Excuse me, my lords and lady," I said loudly, calling attention to myself, "I regret being the odd one out, but what the hell are we talking about?" Dareth furrowed his eyebrows.

"Don't linger on it, your highness." Dareth said. "It's an old wives tale, meant to keep children busy searching for a fairytale." I leaned on my elbow, massaging my temple.

"Care to elaborate, Sir?" I asked. Nya leaned across the table on her forearms, the red velvet that made her skirt brushing heavily against the table legs.

"Have you never heard the legend of the Wolves of Birchwood Forest?" She asked me gently. All the sudden, Pythor yanked a dagger out from his belt and jammed the blade hard into the table.

"Enough!" He shouted, startling us even more than when he had practically massacred out table. We all stared at him in silence, watching his oddly colored eyes flit in anger. He took a deep breath, calming his next words. "This meeting is finished until we can focus ourselves enough to come to a decision."

"You have no right or place to decide that." Dareth said. "You are a guest, one we can refuse and send away at any time. I do not know what power you had in your land, but here," Dareth pointed over towards me, "he's the only one with the power." Pythor narrowed his eyes.

"Exactly." Pythor hissed. "Why are we entrusting the protection of the kingdom to this…_ boy._"

"Because he is the next male in the bloodline, Sir Pythor." Said the Baron slowly, a hint of irritation on his face. "It's his birthright."

"Fine," said Pythor, "I assume the boy must be here," his snake-like eyes flitted towards the other side of the table, "but what about the girl?"

"What about her?" I cut in curtly. Pythor turned towards me.

"She's barely seen the change of fifteen." He laughed. "What use does she serve you?" Nya scrunched her nose, the anger showing in her eyes.

"Why you ill-breeding little…" She started walking towards Pythor, making the Baron step forward to stop her slow pounce.

"What if there was another way?" Said Dareth, who had resumed his seat at the table, his fingers crossed together. I could tell he was trying to get everyone calmly back on topic. Every eye in the room turned towards him. He looked up at all of us, disgust and regret in his eyes. "What if there was a way to win without losing any more men? Without fighting at all?" Pythor ran his thin tongue over his lips.

"How?" He asked slowly.

"Well," Dareth started, his brown eyes flitting over towards me, "Lloyd is almost 17. If we covered it up well, told a small white lie, we could tell the kingdom that he was actually turning 21."

"What are you saying, my lord?" Asked the Baron.

"He's saying that we could coronate Lloyd as king." Nya said from behind the Baron's outstretched arm. She shook her head slowly. "Then, the lands that the Overland is on would belong to Lloyd, and then the other kingdom's that have been refusing to help…" she swallowed, "would have to help him regain his kingdom by law."

"What?" I asked loudly. "No! I refuse!"

"My dear boy, it is the only option we have that follows your wish not to let anyone die." Dr. Julien said kindly. I looked down, swallowing tightly.

"If we go through with that plan, my father would be accused of treason, my mother as well." I swallowed again. "They would be hanged."

"A small price to pay for the protection of _your_ kingdom." Pythor said, his voice condescending.

"I've already spoken to Misako, and she agrees that this is for the best." Dareth said quietly. I took a shaky breath.

"What about the plan?" I asked. "What about the party of five trekking through the mountain?"

"Oh, Lloyd," Nya sighed, "I hate to say it, but the page was right. We would need a miracle." She smiled. "And I don't believe in fairytales anymore." I heard a sigh across the room.

"All in favor of the coronation, say aye." I ran my tongue over my dry lips as I watched every hand in the small room raised into the air, including Pythor. Slowly, but definitely there. Every eye fell towards the map on the table to avoid mine as they all began to file out. The Baron patted me on the shoulder and Nya ran her hand down my arm, both motions meant to reassure me. The room, once filled with shuffling footsteps was now silent, with the exception of the door hinges as they inched shut. I didn't look as I heard someone stop the door, only stared at the map, Pythor's blade still suck in it.

"Your coronation will take place in two days, on the eve of the first day of spring." I heard Dareth say. "I'm so sorry, Lloyd." And the door shut with a loud click, leaving me leaning against the edge of the table, studying the map. My eyes flitted over towards the mountain pass, the only blind spot in my soon to be kingdom. Then, I found myself wondering over to the only dark area on the map, shaded in with hand-drawn trees. Birchwood Forest.

I pressed my tongue against my cheek as I reached over and removed the blade with a grunt, lifting the heavy end of the map as I began to cut.

•••

"I apologize to have bothered you." I said as I watched the older man shuffle around with a tray of tea. "I didn't realize the meeting would run all day, nor did I know it was this late."

"Not a problem, my dear boy." The man turned around, the tray shaking violently in his hands as he sat down at the small table across from me. He gently removed a cup and set it down in front of me, standing up again to pour the tea. "I'm afraid the tea is a bit cold." He attempted to pour the tea with his shaking hands before I removed it from him gently, pouring the tea for both of us. "Thank you." He said as he sat back down, causing the small candle that lit the room to wobble and shake. "That lovely native servant girl brought it to me, what a kind lass." I smiled, nodding in agreement. "Now," he started, getting more comfortable in his wooden chair, "what can an old bard do for the prince at this hour?" I swallowed a bit of cold tea before setting it down and leaning forward on the table.

"I didn't know who else to come to Bard Brookestone." I started. The Bard set down his cup.

"Please," he said, waving his hand in the air, "call me Lou." I smiled, but it soon disappeared. I took a deep breath.

"Can you tell me the legend of the Wolves of Birchwood Forest?" The Bard stared at me for a second before a small smile began to play on his face. He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

"Well that," The Bard says with a laugh as he stood up and crossed the room to his bookshelf, "that is a story I haven't been asked to tell in a long time." He began to run his fingers over the spines of old books, coughing slightly at the dust it produced. "It's actually one of the harder ones to tell." I set my teacup down and hastily stood up.

"If it's any bother at all I'd be happy to return in the morning." I said, making my way towards the door. The Bard turned towards me and made a downward motion.

"Sit down, boy." He snapped at me as he returned, a small, weathered box in his hand. Sitting down heavily, I suddenly remembered that The Bard had hurt his leg in our escape, and should be walking with a cane.

"Lou, where is your cane? You know the doctor said that the stress fracture could escalate into a full blown break if…" Lou held up his hand to silence me.

"You will make a great king someday. Remembering each of our injuries, trying to make it seem like it's all going to be okay. Like our world isn't falling to pieces around us." He smiled at me. "You still believe in miracles, even when the children stopped." I felt the focus in my eyes get sharper, an odd sensation, as though the green was getting brighter.

"That is why I came to you, why I need to hear this story. I need to stop believing." I said, making the candle flicker with my breath. The Bard frowned.

"Why would you give up the last bit of hope this kingdom has?" He asked. I took a deep breath.

"Because I need to start creating." I said quietly. The Bard furrowed his thick eyebrows, but not before a small smirk danced across his lips like a ghost, disappearing before you had time to realize it was there. I took another sip of my tea before gesturing towards the small box in his hands. "Now, if you don't mind?"

"Oh!" The Bard explained, popping open the seal and shaking a deck of worn playing cards onto his outstretched hand. He immediately began to shuffle them with expert fingers, eyes on me. "But before I can tell you that story, I have to tell you this one." His fingers stopped, and he fanned the shuffled cards out on the table in front of him, his dark eyes scanning them. "Once," The Bard started, removing a card from the fan and setting it down in front of me, "there was a wise and noble king, who believed he could raise a kingdom from the energy of the natural world." I studied the card, the king of diamonds as The Bard removed four more cards, laying them out, two on either side of the original.

"He wanted it to have the stability of the earth below him." Ace of Spades. "Strength of the raging storm." Ace of Clubs. "Serenity of the morning frost." Ace of Diamonds. "And the power of the spreading fire." Ace of Hearts. The Bard's eyes glanced up at me, ensuring that I was still paying attention. "The king gathered all this power and created himself a beautiful kingdom, and locked the power up tightly, so that it could never be used for evil, power too great for one man." He carefully stacked the aces under the original King of Diamonds.

"As time passed, the king knew he would have to produce an heir to take over the kingdom and protection of the power, as he was aging." He removed two more cards, laying them beside one another, below the King of Diamonds, closer to me. The Jacks of Spades and Clubs. "Two sons, who the king loved dearly." The Bard scanned his cards again, but didn't remove any of them. "One son," he said, tapping the Jack of Spades, "the oldest, was more susceptible to darkness, while the youngest," pressing the other finger against the Jack of Clubs, "more susceptible to the light. Bonded by blood, separated by balance." Lou took a breath.

"Knowing that he soon had to pick an heir, the king decided to start siphoning the power he had long kept locked away into his two sons." He picked up the King of Diamonds and removed the Aces. "The power of the storm and fire to his oldest." Lou said, placing the Aces of Spades and Clubs under the Jack of Spades. "The power of the frost and stone to his youngest." Aces of Hearts and Diamonds under the Jack of Clubs. "But the king soon realized his mistake, as his youngest, the child with the most stability in his power, began to stop connecting with the human world, more with the spirits, until he was almost lost." The Bard's eyes flicked towards the Jack of Spades. "While the oldest, the most rampant power in him, began to lay siege to his kingdom, burning the village and hurting the citizens as if in a game." Lou licked his lips. "The king tried to siphon the power back out of them, but there was already too much. His only hope was that a strong enough emotion could cause the power to uproot itself." The Bard removed another card. "And he soon got his wish, but not in the way he wanted." In the middle, underneath the two Jacks, he laid down the Queen of Hearts.

"Both of his sons fell in love with the same woman, and in turn, she fell in love with both of them." He laid the Three of Hearts in the middle of all three cards. "The brothers, now banished of their power, once again separated by only the balance, began to fight, both hoping to win the favor of the fair maiden." Lou laid the Two of Clubs down horizontally between the two Jacks, so that each end was touching a Jack. He then proceeded to remove all the Aces, then pick up the King of Diamonds. "But the king had grown ill, aging even quicker with their fighting. He knew he had to make a decision, but he couldn't choose one. He didn't know which son was worthy." Lou slowly began to put the card back into the fan as he stacked the unused cards. "And on his deathbed, he made a decision. His oldest son was to receive the kingdom, as well as the maiden." He stacked The Queen of Hearts on the Jack of Spades, then returned them to the pile. "But the youngest, the youngest received the power, and the moment his brother was crowned, disappeared into the forest with it." Stacking together the remainder of cards, he gently returned them to their box, then set them aside. I blinked twice, looking at The Bard after being fully enthralled in the cards.

"That's the story of the Wolves of Birchwood Forest?" I asked quietly, mind still wrapping around the story I just heard. I felt almost as if I had heard it before.

"No." Replied The Bard. "That is the story called the Princes of Ace. It's been around for nearly 75 years." He adjusted himself in his chair. "The story I'm about to tell you, surfaced in the last five years. It was popular the first year it was established, but it soon faded." I sat up straighter, showing that I was quite interested and attentive now. Lou laughed. "All right, all right. About five years ago, a boy came running down from the hills, crying wolf." Lou waved his hands around in the air. "The boy claimed that four men had come into his flock of sheep, and offered to stay and help for a few days in exchange for a place to sleep. The boy's parents had gone on a trip to another kingdom, so the boy saw no problem with it. He said that while they were tending the sheep one day, they began to tell him the story of the Prince of Aces, but it began to expand past the usual ending." He said as the sun began to set in the hill, the men began to retreat back into the forest, claiming that as they walked, they began to change." The Bard smiled. "The story I'm about to tell you is the one the boy told the village the next day." He took a deep breath.

"When the youngest son fled to the forest of that fateful day, it wasn't only the power he carried with him. He had also stolen a very rare book from his Father's library, a book on powerful magic." The Bard paused. "After he saw what the power, even at two at a time, had done to him and his brother, he cast a powerful charm, which imprisoned each element of the power into a crystal amulet." Lou began to wring his hands. "The charm allowed the power to be used by someone worthy of it. Using another magic spell, he sent the amulets out, looking for their perfect hosts." Lou smiled.

"The first amulet, the power of the stone, found its host in a young mistreated boy, forced to perform in a traveling entertainer's tent. The second, the power of the storm, a boy from a jungle tribe, high within the mountains where people flew like birds. The third, the power of the frost, in a boy that was considered the god of village of ice people. The fourth, the power of the fire, a runaway from a village on the side of the mountain." The Bard paused again. "The power drew them all back to Birchwood Forest, back to the younger brother, who taught them all how to wield their power, how to use it for good instead of evil." Lou's eyes suddenly got really out of focus.

"They learned during the warm summer months, the sweat on their backs a constant reminder of the heat, but the moment the first chilled breeze of the autumn came through, they learned of the man's secret curse. Placed upon the wearer of the amulet, the younger brother still believed that one fourth was too much. He cursed them, walking in the warmth as human, in the cold as creatures of the forest. As wolves of a most vicious kind." The Bard stood up and picked up the candle, gently guiding me towards the door. "After the Autumnal Equinox, beast of the wilderness. After the Vernal Equinox, children of Adam." He opened the door for me as I stepped out, still lost in thought. The door clicked shut as I stood out in the hall.

"Two days until my coronation." I mumbled to myself. "Two days until the first day of spring." I paused. "Two days to find the wolves."

•••


	3. Chapter 3

"**And demons crawled out from their broken minds."**

•_Chapter Three•_

_The Fool_

Once in the comfort of my room, I couldn't help but feel like there was a piece missing from the puzzle, like the Bard had known more he was not sharing. It was as if the story itself struck an unknown cord. I sat on my bed a while, pondering this before I finally mustered up enough courage to stand, crossing over to my wardrobe. There wasn't much in it, only another white undershirt to go with the tunic I currently had on. The white, no longer crisp and clean, matching perfectly with the heavy purple fabric, was now splattered in many places with blood. At the feet of the hanging article sat the only thing of any importance I had brought with me.

Long ago, my father once had a brother. He told me that my Uncle had been estranged when he had become king, leaving only this heavy leather bag. Once his possession, now mine. The leather was thick, enough to protect its contents, but thin enough that it would cause me no hassle. I picked up the bag and walked it back over to the bed, opening the top flap as I laid it down. I glanced at the small piece of parchment next to it, on it a list I had been making of things needed for the journey. Before even looking, I bent forward and carefully worked the map piece I had taken out of my belt, hidden from view by my shirt. I unrolled it and looked at it, no longer crisp but stringy and uneven, but not until now did I notice how vague it was. There was absolutely no indication of any paths through the mountain, no order in the trees of the forest, but it was all I had. With a sigh, I rolled it back up and placed it in the bottom of the bag.

The hair on the back of my neck very abruptly stood on end, causing the long breaths I had been taking to get cut mercilessly short. Someone was watching me. I slowly turned around to face the figure in the door, silently cursing myself for not locking the door. The character had a large sack thrown over their shoulder, as well as something long and broad, held precariously. I slightly adjusted my view before slowly letting out the breath I had been holding. I turned my back towards the door.

"Please refrain from doing that in the future." I spoke quietly, as not to wake anyone up. Pixal labored through the room with her sack, before dropping it on my bed with a heavy thud. I looked over at her, not letting my gaze waver as I reached for the bag, carefully pulling it open and glancing at its contents. I carefully bound the bag back up. "You must be careful not to let any of the council know that you were in any way involved it this." I said to her. "They seem to have taking a liking to hangings lately." Pixal nodded twice, before holding a finger up to her lips. I smiled and reopened the bag.

I removed the large canteen, heavy from water and set it on the bed before binding the food back up and laying it in the bag, canteen next to it. With one quick motion, she removed the large, broad object from her shoulder and presented it to me. I looked at my reflection in the metal before carefully taking it from her. She bowed slightly, dismissing herself as she walked out the door, closing it quietly behind her. "Thank you." I called out quietly, but I know she was too far away to hear. With a sigh, I carefully laid down the sword she had handed me and sat down on my bed.

What was I doing? I pretended to be oblivious, like I was just planning to go out for a stroll in the woods, but I wasn't. I was going to abandon these people, chasing after a sliver of hope that was so far in the dark it was hard to see. What would they think when their soon-to-be king walked out? Disappeared into the night like a ghost, chasing a fairytale. I'm pretty sure Pixal had no idea what I was doing, not that she could tell anyone if she tried. Above all, I felt guilty for committing the biggest sin of all, lying about my true motives. I could tell myself that I was doing this for my parents, for my mother above anyone else, saving them from a painful and violent death of quick suffocation. But, these days, do we really do anything for anybody else anymore? Is it ever about anyone but you?

When I was a child, if I was forced to cower from my father, watching the glee in his eyes until the light filled mine with blood soaked fingers and maniacal laughs, I would have tried reason. I would do anything not to fight him, not to watch him kill me and to force him to live through the horror of what he had done. Now, he was just another enemy waiting to strike, and if I learned anything from my time being a solider, it was not to discriminate against people trying to kill me. If my father came at me right now, I would probably plunge a sword through hid heart without a second thought until it was over. It's no longer about the lives you take, it's about making sure yours is still there for you to keep. I wasn't fighting because I wanted to save my father, I wasn't going out into the dark woods on a suicide mission to keep my mother alive. I was going because I was selfish, because I'm not ready to be king.

I'm barely 17, I've never felt the touch of the fairer sex, excluding my female friends as a child. I've never met a princess from a faraway kingdom and fallen in love with her. I couldn't be king. Python was right. I'm just a child. A selfish child who's sacrificing his entire kingdom because he can't afford them to be permanently under his watch.

A king is not selfish.

A king is not cruel.

A king does not think of himself before others.

A king never abandons his people, for any cost.

I am stealing food, something scarce so that I may live comfortably in the wild.

I'm leaving, maybe for good.

I cannot be king. I'm not ready.

I'm leaving my people like sitting ducks, no one to protect them.

With a sound of aggravation, I stood up abruptly and yanked the sack of food out. I dug through the sack, pulling food that I didn't need. I am selfish, but I will prove I can change. Eventually, there was a large stack of foot sitting on my bed, waiting to be eaten by a hungry and damaged villager. All that was left in my sack was a few loaves of bread, some fruit, and a small amount of meat, wrapped neatly in its salty smelling brown paper. I threw the top of the bag over and buckled it, pulling the leather straps nice send tight through their brass clips. Opening my closet again, I felt against the wooden back until my forgotten scabbard fell against my leg. Slipping the sword into it and slinging it across my back, I grabbed my bag and put it over my shoulder. I didn't look back, nor did I take any breaths of sadness and grief as I walked up the flights of stairs to reach the only part of the bunker above ground.

Finding the nearest window, stopping only for a moment to admire the early morning pink of the sunrise, I reached down and removed the knife that I had removed from the table, noticing in the natural light that the blade seemed to be made of bone instead of steel. Like a fang from a snake. I only admired the odd craftsmanship for a moment before using all my strength to ram the tip into the seam between the window pain and the glass, recently sealed tightly together. I worked the blade up and down until I heard a small pop as the window popped open, only wide enough for a thin book. I wrapped my fingers around the splintered pain and pulled with all my strength, but the window refused to budge. I chewed on my bottom lip, contemplating what I should do, knowing the answer but trying to find another way. After thinking for a moment, I final, admitted defeat. Tucking the knife back into my waistband, I worked my sword out from the scabbard. I weighted the blade in my hands for a moment, before rotating my hand and slamming the blunt end into the window. A loud crack echoed through the hallway, the force only enough to crack the window. I only needed one more to break it.

A bell began to sound through the halls and I spun my head around, trying to locate the sound. One of the guards heard me. I didn't have enough time to break the window and climb through before I was caught and accused of treason. Slipping the blade back into the scabbard, I quickly moved to the other side of the hall. I took a deep breath, before running at full speed towards the window. I felt the glass give out as my shoulder connected, the only pain I felt when my body hit the forest floor below. I heard footsteps getting closer to the broken glass, the bell getting louder. I scrambled to my feet, running as fast as I could into the trees, gripping my right side and hoping that I wouldn't leave a trail of blood.

•••

"At exactly 5:58 this morning, the alarm was sounded due to the breaking of the window up in the right hall." I swallowed tightly and looked up at all the worried and scared faces around me. I glanced back at the others, looking expectant and angry. I swallowed again, of all the people they chose to deliver this message to terrified villagers, they picked me. I understand their reasoning, but just because they grew up knowing the blacksmith's daughter didn't mean they were going to listen to her because she had a position of authority. Many of them resented me for it, but what I was about to tell them… it had to be given gently.

Soon, they would have a new person to resent.

"Um…" I started again, glancing at my hastily scrawled notes, "upon further inspection, it was discovered that the first attempt was to open the window, when it got jammed in the pain. The breaking of the window was a second attempt. And based on the splinter pattern," I looked up towards the crowd again, "the window was broken from the inside." The murmurs and exclamations of shock rose up from the crowd.

"Who would be idiotic enough to leave this place when they'd only end up damned by the devil?" Shouted a woman from the back of the room.

"We should go fetch the prince. He'll know what to do." Said a man from the right.

"Yeah," said a teenage boy, a few years younger than me, "why should he get to sleep during this crisis and we don't?" The shouts of outrage grew louder and louder until they completely covered my demands for quiet. Just as I was about to give up, I felt a hand grip my shoulder tightly.

"Silence!" Dareth shouted from my right, his powerful voice echoing around the large chamber. Every eye in the room turned to his attention, every mouth stopped to hear what he had to say. I felt my shoulders drop, even with the power I held now, I was still just a girl, trampled under the absolute of men. I took a step back, feeling his hand drop off my shoulder as he stepped forward. Dareth took a deep breath before continuing. "We checked off every member of our community that showed up, as well as all the children still asleep in their bed. There's only one person missing."

"Yes." Said Python, stepping forward before we could stop him. "It seems your beloved prince has abandoned you." The gasps were collective and numerous, but only lasted a moment before a small voice cut through the noise like a knife.

"But he wouldn't do that. Would he?" All eyes turned towards the door, where a small girl rubbed sleep out of the one eye she had left. The room was silent until Dr. Julien stepped forward, the sympathy in his eyes overwhelming.

"I'm sorry, Sweetie." He said gently. "He was the only person we couldn't account for." I bit down hard on my lip as he walked across the room slowly, wrapping his old arms around the small girl as her eye filled with tears. "Sometimes," he said quietly, though the entire room could hear, "you have to leave the people you care about to protect them."

"Really?" Asked the Queen, who had collapsed against the wall, "then where the hell did my son go that was to 'protect her'?" Just as I was about to open my mouth, trying to console the now sobbing girl, a hand went up in the crowd. My eyes followed as an older man stood up, leaning on a cane and pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Forgive me, your majesty," said the man, the town Bard, I remembered, "I might know where."

•••

There are different kinds of dizzy. There's the type of dizzy you get when you accidentally have too much wine at your Father's dinner party. There's the type of dizzy when your head spins after your mother has been swinging you around. And then there's the type of dizzy I'm feeling now, the kind that is saying only one thing. I could feel the sweat against my skin, which I could tell from my hand had gotten paler. I blinked rapidly and constantly, trying to clear my mind and sight, but it didn't work. I'd lost too much blood. Of all the things I forgot to bring with me, bandages was one of them, and I had no hope of finding any help. With a vague map, and absolutely no sense of direction, I had headed into the dark part of the forest. As I wandered, I finally understood why they called this part of the forest deep. I was drowning in the same trees over and over again.

With a grunt of pain, I sat down heavily on a rotting stump, wanting to relieve myself for just a bit. Though spring was only a few days away, there was a bitter wind that blew through the forest floor, making me clutch my sides tighter with the hope of getting warm. All of our winter clothes had been cut into bandage strips upon our arrival at the bunker. I closed my eyes tight, trying to banish the pain in my head. Why did I think this was a good idea? Why did I think I could survive? Even worse, the embarrassment that I had survived battle after battle, but was losing it from a cut in my side washed over me, making me cringe in anger. I had let myself become _him_ again, running through the castle after stealing a biscuit, scared of the punishment from the cook. For one moment, I was little Prince Lloyd again and I was suffering because of it. I was a child, who believed in a fairytale.

Letting out a small sigh, I stood up, blurry eyes pointed in the direction I had come from. I hoped I could earn everyone's trust back, I would try no matter what. As I took a labored step forward, a movement out of the corner of my eye stopped me. I stood silent for a minute, hearing only the wind in the trees and the still corpses of fallen leaves moving silently. I took another step forwards, putting the blame on my poor eyesight when a crack in the earlier direction caused my head to spin around, trying to focus my eyes enough to look out into the distance.

The shape was unmoving and silent, its dark eyes studying me like prey. I stood perfectly still as my eyes adjusted, praying that it wouldn't dare come towards me. All earlier wind and noise seemed to silence itself, leaving only my heavy breathing as my company. The only motion was the swaying of the large tree it was standing near. I could see its breath, like puffs of smoke in the air because of the sudden freezing cold. With a slow and steady movement, it lifted its front paw and set in down a step closer to me. I still didn't move. After what seemed like an eternity, motion blessed us with its presence, a small breeze picking up the gray fur on the beast's back. Without missing a note, it leapt back and bounded off through the woods. Though I was in pain, this was my only lead, my only proof that maybe I wasn't so crazy after all. With a burst of strength, I ran off after the wolf, off the trail beaten by feet before me.

I reached the tree which the wolf had been standing by, but there was not so much as the crunching of dry leaves to indicate the direction it had gone in. "Ughhh!" I yelled exasperated to no one I particular, slamming my left palm against the truck of the tree. I had lost it. Whatever hope I had been feeling was immediately drained. Glancing up towards the canopy of the tree, I noticed something so acute, so normal to me that I hadn't noticed how out of place it was in this setting. This tree had leaves, not fresh, small beginning of spring leaves, but actual leaves. And now that I was up close, I was shocked to see that they weren't just leaves of green, thick as they were in the summer. No, there was a section of leaves, brown, red and gold, stuck tight as it they had never met the ground. These leaves were followed by a layer of pine leaves, covered in a thick layer of blue frost. At the beginning of the tree, before the green leaves, were small, pink flowers, petals being blown off by the gentle wind. As the petals floated down, it was as it they disappeared in the air, never to meet the bare ground around the thick tree. Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter. All four seasons, represented by one tree. With a confused glance, wondering how I could have missed this oddity from the path, I was in shock to discover I could no longer see the path. The tree was quite clear from the path, and that wolf was looking at me, how could it…

"Ow!" I yelled, yanking my hand off the truck and trying to hold back a scream of pain. The tree had _burned_ me. It had gotten hot, like a black kettle. As I examined my hand, I noticed that, though it had earlier been caked in blood, was now completely clean. I raised my eyes back to the trunk of the tree, noticing the bright red handprint left from where I had been gripping it. I wrinkled my nose, the smell of burning blood finally hitting me as I watched in awe. The palm area had begun to pull back, leaving only a small amount in the middle that began to form a shape.

ᛈ.

I squirted, my eyes following the tight corners and the long leg. I remembered this. When we had a castle Mage, he had shown me runes, runes he said meant more than they appeared. This was one of them. The one he had carved into the false bottom of the chest he gave me for my birthday so many years before he died. "Secret." I translated quietly to myself, hesitantly tracing the symbol in the air with my finger. Just then, a crack behind me caused me to spin around, wondering if the wolf had returned, but I saw nothing. As I turned back, I felt my eyes widen. I wasn't sure why I was so surprised, that the tree was gone, or that there was a cottage in its place.

•••

The man regarded the young man with quick eyes, watching him from the shadows as he entered the shop. His green eyes were curious, but also full of suspicion. It didn't take long for the man to place him as a soldier.

He was wearing royal purple. An imperial soldier, but that was none of the man's business. Not anymore. He watched the young man as he wandered around the small parlor, his eyes finally falling on the list. His eyes darted across it as his finger hesitantly reached out, brushing against the parchment.

"Is this… is this made of human skin?" More of a question than an exclamation, but no one was asking the man. Pain. Pain is what it took to find this place. Whether it be mental or physical, it always took pain. The man's eyes darted to the darker side of the young man's tunic. Blood.

The man reached in his pocket, removing the deck with the utmost care. Selecting the first card, he held it up to the only light he had in his corner, next to the young man himself. His old eyes scanned the picture, the oblivious man, the warning dog, the jeering cliff. He didn't need to read the words at the bottom to know what card it was. The old man returned the rest of the deck to his pocket, holding the selected card tight between his shaking fingers.

"Brave forward, sir." The old man whispered to the young man, only loud enough for himself to hear. "The foolish always do."

•••


End file.
